Hidden in Plain Sight
by imagine-chancefiction
Summary: Hannah Jekyll knew that her father had secrets that died with him all those years ago. In present day, Hannah goes looking to discover exactly what those secrets were & how they led to his death...but at a cost. When a man named Edward Hyde reveals more about Henry Jekyll than Hannah had ever known, she can't help but wonder: Was her entire life a lie? *On hiatus- will resume soon*
1. And So It Begins

**Author's Note:** Hey everyone! OK, this is something that I wrote a little more than a year ago, but I completely forgot about it until I found it lurking in the depths of my Documents folder about two weeks ago. I made a couple revisions to it, and ta-da! Here it is!

For now, it's just going to stay a one-shot, but if I get some activity on it, I might just put up the following chapters that I also wrote a year ago. :)

Basically, I got the inspiration for writing it while I was casually reading the novella _Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde _by Robert Louis Stevenson. You'll see the some of the same names of similar characters, but the relations pretty much end there. The rest comes from my wonderful imagination. Well, enough rambling from me- enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, events, etc. relating to the story of _Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde_, of whom the original work is of Robert Louis Stevenson's brilliant mind, and the rights belong to their respective owners, who obviously do not include me.

* * *

_**Hidden in Plain Sight**_

**3 Years Ago…**

**Hannah's POV**

That terrible morning I woke up at 8 o'clock, feeling oddly refreshed. I didn't know why, but, back then, that day felt like it was going to be a great day. I had only had one class scheduled for that day, so that had already been a one up on the scale.

I quickly showered and dressed before bouncing down the stairs. I had heard my father's loud coughing from the kitchen, so I inferred that he must have been making me breakfast. I knew that I was eighteen and should no longer have my dad make me food, but his chocolate chip pancakes were too scrumptious to pass up on.

I practically skipped into the kitchen, impatient to what I was hopefully about to see unfold in front of me. "Morning Daddy," I sang.

My father, Dr. Henry Jekyll, muttered a reply that was inaudible. I sensed that something was wrong, because, right then, I realized that: A. My dad's face (what I could see of it, because his graying brown shaggy hair was mostly covering it) was unnaturally gray and B. The only food in the kitchen was the one cup of coffee that my father was drinking.

I walked over to where he was sitting and squatted down to meet him at eye level. "Dad, are you feeling OK?"

He nodded his head a little violently while he kept his emerald eyes glued to his Colorado State coffee mug. "Uh, yeah. Just a little down under the weather, that's all."

I leaned forward slightly and felt his forehead with my manicured right hand. "My god, you're burning up!" I sprung up as I declared, "Let me get you your medicine."

I began to rush upstairs to his room to grab the pill bottle that sat on his bedside table, but he stopped me with his words as he proclaimed, "No! Don't grab it! I can't take it!"

I froze in my tracks, my red flats squeaking on the pale white tile on our kitchen floor. Exhaling sharply, I turned around to face my father. With a concerned, yet stern expression on my pale face, I questioned, "Why the hell not?"

"It has too many...side effects. Trust me, dear, I'm fine." He pushed his thin wire glasses up his nose and gave me a weak smile. I supposed that it was just his way of trying to assure me that what he spoke of was the truth. I, however, suspected otherwise, simply because I knew my father well enough.

I sighed and, in spite of that little revelation, succumbed to my father's strange pleas instead of insisting that I took him to the hospital, my reasoning being that he probably knew what was going on with him better than I did. "Fine," I began. "But if your condition gets any worse, don't say that I didn't warn you."

"I promise, Hannah, I'm FINE." He stressed the last word on purpose, adding almost a goofy tone to it- just like the way that he used to when I was little.

As I then proceeded to rummage around the kitchen for something to eat (I settled for a granola bar and a banana) before I headed off, I replied, "Now, I've got to get to class, but if you need anything or get any worse, please call me."

"I promise that I will." He flashed me a weak smile and supported that with a slight thumbs-up.

I chuckled lightly, gave him a kiss, and headed off to my class of the day (advanced English literature...yay) at Applewood Community College. And the whole time, the only thing that I could think about is how I thought that my dad was lying about how bad his health was. It scared the hell out of me.

* * *

**Henry's POV**

As soon as my daughter got into her blue Toyota Camry and left, I howled in pain. I could tell that my self-diagnosed "disease" was killing me, but the only way to cure it was to let the darker side of me out. And that would never happen, never again. As I fell out of my wooden support of a chair and let the blinding fire in my brain run its course, I thought about everything that had happened throughout the years.

When I was first sick, I believed that the power that was bestowed on me was wonderful, but after more than nineteen years of living with it, I had decided that it was not a blessing, but a curse- and it needed to be terminated.

It seemed to be, at the time, that the only way to end it was to end myself. It was a part of me, and there was no way of getting rid of it without leaving myself an empty shell.

After the agony in my mind subsided and I had fully returned to my senses, I slowly, excruciatingly dragged myself up to a seated position, where I proceeded to stand up, albeit with difficulty. When I felt that I was able to walk without possibly falling down once more, I spent a great time pacing (even though it was more like limping), still wondering if what I was about to do was the best (and only) option. I looked at the clock, noting that it read 11:15- Hannah had just gotten out of her class.

It was at that moment when the agonizing pain in my head took over once more. I screamed, collapsed to the floor, and then grunted as I crawled across the kitchen floor to the phone in the living room. I had one last call to make before I was gone forever.

* * *

**Hannah's POV**

After an hour of sitting in a pitch black classroom, the sun's light felt extremely harsh. I almost felt like a vampire who has just stepped into the sunshine and was now burning to death. I dramatically put my hand over my chocolate eyes, moaning in the process, but it didn't do any good.

A few seconds later, my phone began to ring and I had to run to the shade of a big maple tree in order to see the caller ID. Seeing who was calling, I answered it, fully terrified. Shaking, I squeaked, "Hello?"

A voice croaked on the other end of the line. "Hannah? Are you there?"

Violently trembling, I answered with, "Yeah, Dad, it's me. What's up?"

There was a moment of silence and then what sounded like something crashing before my father said, "Hannah, I just want to say that, for all of this, I'm genuinely sorry. You don't deserve what's coming."

Tears began to slide down my cheeks as I demanded, "Dad, what's going on? What aren't you telling me?!"

There was silence once more. I heard a soft moan and was just about to call out for my father when he returned again and stated, "I've failed you by making too many terrible mistakes, and you must never know how or why. These secrets that I am burdened with, Hannah, some are too horrible for you to ever discover. And now, I must take them to the grave with me. Goodbye, Hannah, and just remember- I love you."

The line on the other end clicked off and I knew in my gut that my father was gone. As fast as I could have gone in my car (speeding and breaking the law by God knows how many miles per hour), I raced home to a horrible sight: my father was lying on the rug, the phone still in his hands, and an overturned table and the broken remnants of a lamp lying right next to him.

I dashed over to him and threw myself down into a kneeled position beside him. I took his pulse, which was very weak, and took in any other injuries that he may have had, which, thankfully, seemed to only be a small gash on his forehead where, presumably, the lamp or table hit him when they toppled down. I called 911, rolled him over, and gave him two pills from the bottle that I retrieved from his bedside table, praying that they would bring him back to a conscious state. The opposite seemed to happen, however- my father's heart stopped.

In a completely frenzied state, I began CPR on my father. As I broke his ribs and pushed against his heart, I cried and screamed for him to wake up, to not leave me like my mother had all those years ago. It was once again a matter of life and death for a family member of mine- and Death was winning once more, as if history was repeating itself. I tried and tried for what seemed like hours to revive him, but nothing was working.

The paramedics arrived after what I discovered later to be seven minutes from the time that I called and took my father in an ambulance to a nearby hospital. Throughout the entire ride there, as the paramedics worked on my dad, I held his hand as I sobbed and, over and over, whispered to him that I loved him, that I didn't want him to die. I didn't even realize we had gotten into the emergency room until a kind nurse separated me from the rest of the busy party and escorted me into the waiting room, where I proceeded to fall into one of the uncomfortable chairs. After doctors tried to hopelessly revive my father for an hour, he was declared dead. Receiving the news from the head doctor, I collapsed onto the floor and wept until the doctors tried to get me to stay in the hospital due to my distressed state.

Just a few days afterwards, my father was buried. It was a closed casket funeral, as he had requested things to be private, whatever that meant. It rained, as it seems to do at every funeral, and, once my extended family members and my father's few colleagues and friends left, I felt a sense of emptiness inside my heart. I stood in the rain for hours, left staring at the grave of not only my beloved father, but my best friend.

After everything was over and my life started to get into an unfamiliar swing of daily motions, I couldn't help but feel that the mysterious circumstances surrounding my father's disease and his ultimate death were just never going to come to light.


	2. Interrogations

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters, events, etc. relating to the story of _Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde_, of whom the original work is of Robert Louis Stevenson's brilliant mind, and the rights belong to their respective owners, who obviously do not include me.

* * *

**Present Day**

**Hannah's POV**

I approach the interrogation room in the police station. I may not be an officer or a detective, but I still need answers. I silently thank my friends in high places (i.e. my dad's old best friend and my adopted uncle, Chief of Police Guy Summers) as I consider what I am about to do. I've been told that the man sitting in this room is a psychopath, but if he knows something about my father and his untimely demise, then I must know what it is.

I take a deep breath, tuck part of my dirty blonde hair behind my ears, and twist the silver knob on the beige door, entering the white room. I am immediately baffled, however, when I discover that there appears to be no one residing in this tight box of a room. Sensing something behind me, I turn around and, immediately, there's a man in my face. I scream, but quickly slap my hand over my mouth.

"Now, now my darling," the stranger purrs with a toothy grin, "Aren't we a little jumpy today?"

I forcefully release the breath that I've been holding and lean around the suspect to pull the door shut behind him. As I brush off the brown leather jacket that I'm wearing (and give a slight nod to the glass wall to let the officers watching that I'm okay), I state, "Well, I didn't have my coffee this morning, and I'm a bear without it." I turn and motion to the table behind me with a chair each on opposite sides of it. "Shall I begin with my questions?"

He nods quickly with an almost disturbing enthusiasm. "Sure, yeah."

He dashes across the room, leaps into farthest spinning chair from the door (why are there office chairs in the _interrogation_ room?), and twirls around in it like a silly little child at the carnival. He's a man of 30 to 35, lanky, with chiseled features and with hair that's as black as night. When he was in my face, I noted that his eyes were the color of either bright gold or honey, and honestly, they made me dizzy. Now, seeing him spinning in his seat makes me wonder if maybe this guy really is as insane as they claim he is.

I brush off the thought, trying to boost my confidence. But then, as I sit down in my own chair and look at his file, seeing his name, I can feel my confidence go right back down the toilet. I nearly stammer as I ask, "So, um, Mr. Hyde, what did the police bring you in for?"

He chuckles as he stops twirling in his chair. "They claim that I was disturbing 'public affairs' but, honestly, I didn't do anything. At least, not yet."

I raise an eyebrow and give him a quizzical look, not knowing at all what he is talking about. "I beg your pardon?"

He leans forward, putting his elbows on the cold metal table, and starts to act out with his hands what he says next. "I was in a tree, you see, and I was sleeping. Well, apparently, they can arrest you for snoring in public."

I scratch my head. "Hmm... Why were you sleeping in a tree?"

"Because I was tired and I wanted to get a little shut-eye!" He snaps and I leap back just a bit.

"Ok, then," I reply with uneasiness. I take a deep breath and continue. "What do you mean by saying that you hadn't done anything yet?"

He glares at me and gives me a purely evil smile. "Oh, I mean nothing by it. It's just meant to get your blood pumping and imagination running. Or so you think."

I'm truly puzzled. "I don't follow. It's like you're saying yes and no at the same time. Give me a straight answer!" I bang my fists on the table between the stranger and me. My vision goes red, and I'm afraid that I'll black out, which I normally do when I'm stressed. I try to steady my breathing.

The psycho smiles and lets out a hearty laugh. "My, don't you have a temper, Ms. Jekyll?"

My eyes widen and I gasp. Forgetting my previous problem, I question, "How the hell do you know my name?!"

Mr. Hyde glances up at the ceiling with a thoughtful look on his face. He lightly taps his chin as he answers, "Let's just say that we've met before."

I don't know why, but I'm honestly appalled by his response. "What?! I don't know you! I've never seen you before in my life!"

He gives me a twisted grin as he asks, "You sure about that?"

I lean back a little bit into my chair and think. A memory then slaps me in the face.

I was younger, I was four years old, I think. It was a scary night- there was a severe thunderstorm, and the power had gone out. My father had told me to stay in my room, but I couldn't sleep. I had wandered downstairs because I had heard my daddy shout and I was concerned about him.

When I reached the bottom of the stairs, a figure snatched me up into his arms. I thought that it was my daddy so I giggled and gave him a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek. Only it wasn't Daddy.

It was a strange man, who shouldn't have been that scary, but for some reason, he horrified me. He gave me an evil, toothy grin. I screamed and tried to wiggle out of his arms, but he only squeezed me tighter. I was hysterical and crying, and looked into his eyes to beg him to let me go.

As soon as I gazed him in the eye, his hideous smile relaxed and he looked like he was confused and shocked. He sat me down on the brown leather couch that we used to have and then walked out the front door. When I told Daddy about it the next day, he insisted that I had dreamed about everything, but I knew, deep into my soul, that everything had been real.

I sit here in this chair, and realize that that man who had held me 17 years ago was the stranger that was sitting across from me now. He was the demon that haunted my nightmares when I was a kid- and he still looks exactly the same as he had that awful night.

I shriek and clasp my hand over my mouth. Tears stream down my face, for even though I am an adult, this monster still scares the hell out of me.

He tilts his head and flashes me his signature smile. Knowing who he is, I try to spring up and run away, but I trip and crash to the ground. I crawl away, but he stands up and starts to approach me. I head for the door, but, as if he had super speed, appears just in front of me, just in front of the door.

He holds my head between his hands and in a disturbing voice sings, "Shhhhh, my child. There's no need to cry."

I pull away, thoroughly disturbed. I pull myself into the corner and start to whimper like a small, frightened child.

Hyde stands up, puts his hands on his hips, and proclaims, "Oh Hannah, there's no need to be scared of your daddy."

As those words echo loudly in my ears, I'm yanked back into reality from my terrible childhood memories. When I realize what that man has just said, my fear quickly turns into fiery rage. I stand up and as I stalk over to him to scream, "You are not my father!" I slap him hard across his left cheek, and with as much bitterness as I can muster into my voice, I yell, "Damn you! You did not know my father; you could not have possibly known him, and just the very mention of him in that manner proves that you are not even worthy enough to have known him! He was one of the best, one of the kindest men that I have ever known! You…you're…you're just trash!" I walk away, biting my lip, trying to force myself to calm down before I feel like punching the guy this time instead of just simply slapping him.

He strides over to me as he rubs his left cheek. "Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah, Hannah; haven't you ever wondered why I was in your house seventeen years ago?"

I stare at him in disbelief. And for a second, just a second, I almost second guess myself and start to believe him. My common sense gets the better of me, however, and I'm put back in my right mind as I simply, calmly say, "That's not possible. Do you even hear what you are trying to make me fall for? It's ridiculous and impossible, so it cannot be true. Obviously, you are just a sick man whose only joy in life is scaring little kids."

He chuckles, and walks over to the table, where he sits down in his chair once more. "Silly little Hannah, never seeing what's hidden in plain sight."

I step back and try to figure out exactly what this man is saying. When I cannot immediately come to a conclusion, I reply, "Maybe I can't see it, Mr. Hyde."

His normally playful face turns grim and he stares me in the eye as he delivers, "Maybe you just don't want to see it, Ms. Jekyll. But I can assure you that you need to see it. You must know the truth."

I consider this momentarily before shaking my head and stating, "You know, at first, I thought that I wanted to know. Now, though, I'm not so sure. I'm sorry, but I have to go." I gather up all of my things and begin to head out of the interrogation room.

But right before I'm out the door, Mr. Hyde adds, "So, I presume that I'll be seeing you again, Hannah?"

"Not likely," I retort. I then rush out the door. As soon as I'm outside of the interrogation room and I've shut the door, I let out a shutter and head towards the viewing room.

Inside, there are two unknown officers, a detective (and good friend of mine) by the name of Susanna Quite, and Chief Summers. I knock softly at the door to alarm them to the fact that I have arrived. As soon as Susanna sees me, she walks up to me and gives me a big bear hug.

As I awkwardly put my arms around Susanna to reciprocate the embrace (I've never been a big fan of hugs), she utters, "Hannah, are you OK?"

I pull away from the hug and confirm, "Yeah, Sue, I'm alright. I'm fine, never better."

I look down at my converse when Chief Summers states, "He's something else, Hannah, just like I told ya before."

I meet my eyes to his and say, "You're right, Guy; something's just really off about him. I know that you told me before, but I guess that kind of went out of the window when he _got in my face_."

One of the officers, a short, balding man, steps forward and offers, "Ms. Jekyll, I know this may sound weird, but, right before that incident occurred, it seemed like Mr. Hyde wasn't even in the room."

With a confused look on my face, I scan my eyes across the four other people in the room and question, "What the hell does that mean? You said he has been in there, in that bloody room, since two o'clock this afternoon. You called me in an hour after that, after he screamed about wanting to see someone who looked _exactly like me_, and even when I got here, you all said that he will be kept in there at all times until all interviews are conducted." I focus on the unknown officer who brought up the subject. "Are you telling me that Hyde _escaped_?"

Chief Summers steps forward and puts his hands on my shoulders. "No, Hannah, that's not what Officer Jones is trying to say at all. What he is trying to say is that, one second, Hyde was sitting, or should I say spinning, in that chair, and then the next second, poof! He was behind you, ready to strike. I have no explanation, Scott has no explanation, we have no idea how he moved ten feet in less than the time that it takes to blink."

I huff. "Well, tonight's just full of impossible stuff, isn't it?" I run my fingers through my hair and straighten my dad's old glasses on my nose. My father needed them to see, but I don't require them- they're basically there just as a memento of my late father, hopefully making me feel like he is still here with me, giving me strength when I most need it.

Chief Summers gives me a stern look as says, "Hannah, go home and get some rest. You look completely exhausted, and, right now, I can tell that you're frustrated with the whole case. We'll keep Hyde here for the night, all nicely locked up tight, and when you get here tomorrow after your first job, I'll let you take another crack at him. How's that sound?"

I smile for the first time in what seems like years and shrug while replying, "That sounds good, Guy. Thank you very much for allowing me to do this; the whole thing with my dad really means a lot to me."

Chief Summers nods and practically shoves me out of the viewing room, albeit playfully. "You're welcome, kiddo. Now, go get some sleep and we'll see you tomorrow."

I wave as I walk towards the front door of the station. "Ok, goodnight everyone." With that, I walk out the large glass door and leave for the night.


	3. The Truth

**Author's Note: **Here's Chapter #3! This chapter does offer some more for the plot, as stated in the previous chapter. After this, I've got one more chapter already written, and again, I've just got to edit it.

Oh, a sad little note, since the next chapter is the last chapter that I have prepared, the updates are going to come less frequently, as I've also got several other stories that I'm working on.

Enough of the bad news; let's read!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters, events, etc. relating to the story of _Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde_, of whom the original work is of Robert Louis Stevenson's brilliant mind, and the rights belong to their respective owners, who obviously do not include me.

* * *

**Hannah's POV**

As soon as I get home, I slam the front door and scream my lungs out in built-up frustration. Good thing that my house has thick walls- my dad made sure of that when he built the house.

I'm just so upset that Hyde could provide no information whatsoever about my father, other than the fact that he supposedly was my departed dad. I was relatively calm after I left the police station, but on the lengthy ride home, as my thoughts swirled around my head like a hot wind, I started to get angrier and angrier. I just hate people who enjoy toying with other's emotions, as it feels like straight betrayal that got me absolutely nowhere.

I try to calm myself down, but I think about how it has taken me three years just to get here, and there's nothing. I feel like I've let my dad down. He was so mysterious all the time, and I feel like I owe it to him to know the truth, even if he was hesitant about exposing it to me.

I'm so emotional that I feel like I could just...growl? Oh my God, I just growled! Right now, I begin to honestly feel like I am losing my mind.

I dash to the small bathroom down the hall and splash some cold water on my face, hoping that it will smack some sense into me. I take a deep breath and try to force myself to chill out. The only problem is that I can still feel my adrenaline rushing.

"What's wrong with me?" I whisper, fully terrified. And that's when, in the mirror, I see that my eyes have changed from a chocolate brown to a blood red color. A shiver goes down my spine, which is followed by an excruciating pain. I try to cry out, but there's no sound. The world goes dark.

I open my eyes and discover that, not only is it morning, but I'm also outside, lying down. I'm extremely disoriented and I'm so lightheaded that I feel like I'm going to faint again. But for some reason, I have a feeling that I didn't just simply black out the first time.

I slowly sit up, and, as I do, I realize that I'm up on the roof to my house. I let out a shriek, because I have no recollection of even climbing up here. Just as the panic inside me begins to increase tenfold, I feel my cell phone vibrate in my back pocket.

My phone says that I have one new text from an unknown number, but when I open up the message, chills start to climb up and down my spine.

_I haven't been out in a while,_ it reads.

I quickly type back, _Who are you? _I sit still for a few moments, holding my breath as I anxiously wait for a reply. My hopes get crushed, however, when the text gets kicked back. After I take less than a second to reanalyze the text, I realize that the number of the sender is actually my own. The next part makes me release a bloodcurdling scream.

As if my fingers move by themselves, out of my control, they type, _Oh, you know who I am._

I retort, _No, I don't. And how the hell are you using my body to talk to me?_

My fingers type, _Don't you mean our body?_

Completely alarmed, I shout, throw my phone away from me, and jump up from my squatted position. The only problem is that I forget that I am on a slanted roof. I lose my balance and fall forward, painfully sliding down the slope. Right before the roof falls out from under me, I twist my body and grasp the exhaust pipe for my stove top. It's extremely hot for some reason, so, by reflex, I let go and continue to slide until the roof falls out from under my feet.

I grab the drain pipe so that I don't fall to my doom. But the pipe is breaking under my weight, and I'm just too weak to pull myself back on the roof. I can feel giant waves of stress and panic washing over me. All of a sudden, I feel the shiver down my spine again and could almost feel a surge of strength run through my body. What happens next completely surprises me, because, instead of climbing back on the roof, I let go of the drain pipe. I free fall for twenty feet for only less than a second, but I feel like I'm flying for all eternity. The sensation is wonderful.

Now, instead of going splat on the ground, I tuck and roll, and end up without a scratch. It takes my breath away. That's when I hear my phone buzz again.

Finding where my phone landed in the bushes, I read the incoming text on it that says, _That was nice, wasn't it?_

I quickly type back, _How did that just happen?_

In less than a second, the device vibrates. _You've got special abilities, Hannah. Strength, stamina, and speed that you could not possibly comprehend. All that power comes from me._

Sending a message back, I declare, _I don't understand._

The phone explains, _You could have this power all the time- if you only let me out to play._

Completely finished with the entire situation at hand, I exclaim, _No. Whoever the hell you are, you are just a figment of my imagination. You're not real. I must just be hallucinating._

The phone somehow answers with an almost sarcastic tone. _Man, you are harder to get through to than ten consecutive walls of bricks._

With my terror taking over, I drop my phone and shout, "Stop it! I'm going insane here, and my hallucination of you is not making it any better!"

I half-expect no one to respond, but then I hear a voice in my head that says, "Just because you're going nuts doesn't mean I'm a figment of your imagination."

Clutching the sides of my pounding head, I cry, "No! Please, just shut up!"

The voice in my head declares, "I will talk as much as I want to. I'm in your head and I'm bothering you, so I am content."

Done with having imaginary psychotic conversations with myself, I go inside my house...and notice that the majority of the living room is torn up. The coffee table and two side tables are tipped over, the wooden entertainment center is in splinters, and the TV is _through the wall._ The only thing left in its original position is the couch. Fed up with everything, I throw up my arms and head towards my bedroom computer, where I start researching my symptoms to see if I truly am going crazy.

I get no results for color-changing eyes, voices in the head, random blackouts, and sudden durability and strength. Maybe I am going crazy, but there's no way in hell that I could have imagined all of _that_ happening.

I can only think of one person that might know what's going on with me, but I still feel immensely uncomfortable with approaching him. Perhaps the best way to find out if you are psychotic is to talk to someone who surely is. And in my case, the crazy one's name is Edward Hyde.

As I drive to the police station, I debate whether or not it is actually a good idea to visit Hyde, but as I pull into the station's visitor parking lot, I realize that I have no other choice. I step inside the station and take a deep breath, trying to prepare myself as much as possible.

The older of two receptionists looks up from typing on her computer. "Hello. Can I help you?"

I approach the wizened lady with a forced smile on my face. "Hi. Um, yes, I was wondering if Chief Summers was available for a consultation about a Mr. Edward Hyde?"

The other receptionist, a younger red-headed lady, probably in her late twenties, turned her head and looked me dead in the eye as she asked, "Edward Hyde?"

I nod my head in response. "Yes, ma'am."

The older receptionist sighs and then empathetically says, "Oh, honey, I'm sorry."

I give her a confused look. "Sorry? Why?"

As soon as I question the receptionist, Chief Summers enters the room. "You cannot speak to me, Hannah, about Edward Hyde because this morning, Edward Hyde escaped."

I am completely shocked. "My God! I can't believe it! What happened?"

Guy slips his hands into his pockets and inhales deeply. "He apparently tricked one of the guards into getting too close to him- knocked the officer unconscious and stole the keys to his holding cell. We had ten officers immediately after him, but he swiftly and quickly punched all of them unconscious as well. I swear, the whole ordeal took less than thirty seconds. Then he walked right out of the front door."

My mouth hangs open for a moment before I find what I want to say. "Wow. Are the officers okay? Are you looking for him? For Hyde?"

Chief Summers nods and confirms, "Yes, but most of us are hesitant after what he did to those eleven officers."

I look at Chief Summers with an extremely skeptical expression on my face. "Most of them are scared?!"

He nods his head vigorously as he claims, "Yeah, I'm a little freaked myself. You didn't see it- he moved so fast and hit the officers so hard that you would swear that he had some kind of friggin' superpowers."

Somewhat reserved, I continue my previous investigation for answers. "Okay then. Did he say anything on his way out?"

The chief sighs. "Yeah, he said that he was 'going home to see his daughter.' None of us here knows what that means, 'cause as far as we know, Hyde has no family. We actually have no information on him other than a name. No social security number, no birthday, no place of work, nothing. I swear, it's as if one day he just fell out of the sky!"

"Okay Guy, thank you for your time." I turn on my heel and walk out of the station, rolling over in my head the possibilities of what Hyde was talking about. The coming clarity smacks me in the face.

Hyde has no family, but I he claimed that I was his daughter. I inhale sharply and dash to my car. If he said that he was going home to see his daughter, then that means that Hyde is at my house. Right now.


	4. Will Set You Free

**Author's Note: **Good news, everyone! Here's a brand new chapter just for you all! I know that it's being posted later than I originally said it would be, and I'm terribly sorry about that. I hope that you all can forgive me.

Just to let you know, this chapter's got a good amount of plot and character development to it, basically meaning that there's a lot of "informative" dialogue.

Enjoy! :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of the characters, events, etc. relating to the story of _Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde_, of whom the original work is of Robert Louis Stevenson's brilliant mind, and the rights belong to their respective owners, who obviously do not include me.

* * *

I try to drive as quickly as I can without getting pulled over for speeding. I pull into my driveway and rush into my house.

Standing right there, in the middle of my destroyed living room, is Edward Hyde. "Hello, Hannah. See? I told you that we would cross each other's paths again." He gives me a little bow and I scoff.

I spontaneously walk up to him and once again slap him on the face. In a following blur of motion, he grabs my wrist, twirls me around, and twists my arm behind my back. I wince and cry out in pain.

"Oh, I'm sorry, does that hurt?" He chuckles before pushing me away from him.

I try to run, but I'm so disoriented that I trip and fall on the ground. I turn and look back at the demon. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

He laughs evilly before leaping over to my side.

Seeing the distance that he traveled in a single bound, I exclaim, "That was a twelve foot jump!"

"Yeah, I know." He picks me up and throws me over his shoulder like I'm a rag doll. I start screaming and beating on his back, but he doesn't let me down. He carries me upstairs and tosses me down on the upstairs hallway rug.

Pain shoots through my right shoulder as I cry out, "Ow!"

He puts a finger to my lips. "Sh, sh, sh, Hannah." He strides away from me, but then suddenly and dramatically turns around. "So, what do you know about me, Hannah?"

I consider my response for a second before answering, "You're a lunatic who has no regards for the emotions of others."

He rolls his hands over each other. "And? What else?"

I shrug my uninjured shoulder. "That's about all that I've got."

Hyde jumps up and down almost like an impatient child. "C'mon, you know more about me. Don't you remember?"

I give him a quizzical look. "Remember what?"

He taps his chin in consideration. "Maybe you just need a little jog of the memory." He super-speedily dashes over to me and places his hands on both sides of my face.

It's as if I'm transported to the past. I know this night- this is the night that I saw Hyde for the first time. The thing, though, is that I'm seeing my memories from a different point of view. I watch my late father enter the living room, clutching his head. He collapses into his old swivel chair (I've gotten rid of it by the present time) and puts his head between his knees.

He turns his head to the left, and stares at his medication bottle on the table next to him. "Well, Hannah _is_ in bed..."

He reaches over and grabs the bottle. He twists the cap, but he loses his grip on the bottle, so not only does it open, but the pills spill out and fly everywhere. He also smacks his hand hard against the corner of the side table. My dad curses under his breath.

He snatches up all the pills that he can find and slides them back into the bottle, except for two. With shaky hands, he places the two pills into his mouth and swallows them. He starts convulsing and screaming in pain.

Over the commotion, I hear little footsteps, causing me to turn my attention to the stairs in order to confront the noise, only for my jaw to drop slightly. There, standing in purple kitten pajamas, is the four-year old version of me.

I gasp softly as she starts to speak. "Daddy? Daddy? Daddy, what's wrong?"

He turns and looks at the young version of me. "Hannah? No!" He tries to get up, but he collapses, and I just stand there- both of me. My heart shrieks out that I must do something to help my dad, but my brain fights back with the realization that this is just a vision, and there is nothing that I can do. Remaining in my spot in the corner, I take note of my father's face- it's twitching, but he somehow still seems calm and at ease. That's when I see the change.

I witness my father's face shift into another face- the one of Mr. Hyde. I gasp and start crying, as it means that Hyde has been telling the truth all along. The change stops and my father has truly become a different man.

The rest of the scene continues as I originally remember it. And the whole time, I just stand there, in the little corner, in shock.

I blink and I'm back in the present. And there's Hyde- no, my father- sitting there in front of me. Instead of looking like his evil self, the expression on Hyde's face makes him look understanding and even more like my dad.

I choke out a sob. "You _are_ my father."

"Well, yes and no," Hyde replies while using his hands to symbolize a scale.

"Then why...?" I give him a look of uncertainty.

He replies with a serious face. "Anna, I had to make sure that you first believed me before I told you the complete truth."

I'm completely taken aback. I whisper, "My dad would call me Anna sometimes."

He bops me lightly on my nose. "Yes, I know. We share a brain remember? He gets some of my knowledge and I get some of his. It's a fair trade."

I think for a moment. "Mr. Hyde, how is it that I had no recollection of seeing you turn?"

A wide grin creeps up his thin, pale face as he questions, "Did you know that your father took several psychology classes in college? Tick, tock, tick, tock."

I'm utterly shocked. Very slowly and articulatory, I ask, "My father hypnotized me?"

"Yup," he chuckles. "Children are so easy to influence."

"My God." I brush blonde hair out of my eyes. "Is there anything else that you wanna tell me, Hyde? Like after three years, why did you just now decide to come and talk to me?"

He stands up and dashes down the stairs into the kitchen. I spring up and rush after him. When I get into the kitchen, I find him rummaging in my fridge.

He looks up at me, frustrated. "You got any beers?"

I cross my arms and shake my head. "No. I don't drink."

With an irritated look on his face, he slams the fridge door closed and states, "Shame 'bout that."

"Not really. My question, Mr. Hyde?" I start tapping my foot impatiently on the white tile floor.

"Right, right, right. Well, let's just say that your father and I were not buddy-buddy in the beginning. In fact, we hated each other's guts. With time, however, we gained a mutual understanding of each other. We each still wanted our freedom from the other, though." He once again opens up the refrigerator, grabs a can of Coke, and slurps up the lot of it in one sip before throwing the can on the floor.

I become slightly more agitated. "What's that got to do with my question?"

Stone-faced, he declares, "Patience, my dear, is a virtue." He considers his previous statement for a moment before announcing, "But, then again, I don't have any patience, let alone virtue, so don't listen to me. Either way, when you thought your father died, he actually only became dormant within me. Before he lost consciousness, he transformed into me. At first, I only thought that his subconscious was locked into a tiny corner of my brain. I later found that this wasn't the case. Sure, I enjoyed the freedom- Dr. Jekyll was no longer there to tell me what to do and I finally had a life."

A thought popping into my head, I begin asking, "Mr. Hyde, why...?"

He snaps his head in order to glare at me as he yells, "Please, Hannah! Let me finish!"

I cower back slightly into the relative safety of the living room. "Sure. Yeah, um, sorry. Go on."

He sighs. "Thank you. So, either way, I was having a marvelous time, living the life that Dr. Jekyll either couldn't or wouldn't live. Basically, I threw all rules out of the window. This all happened in the first year. After a while, though, I realized that I wasn't going anywhere- I no longer had a sense of direction or anyone to tell me what to do with my time. I actually started to _miss _having Dr. Jekyll in my head. I tried searching for him in my noggin', but I had no success. He was just...gone. I didn't even have the pills that I needed to change back into him, but even so, I still had no idea if they would work. Eventually, I decided that I would come searching for you, that maybe you could help me get Dr. Jekyll back."

With some other new thing coming across my mind, I ask, "How is it that at times you sound sophisticated and educated, but at other times, you sound like you're a either a child or a stalker?"

He glares at me. "Hannah, _please_. I have a complex dual personality- it's what I do." He snaps his fingers in my face. "Get with the program!"

I scoff. "Sorry, but I'm already _in_ the program. Either way, I thought that you were supposed to be mean and have no regard for others? I figure that you're Mr. Nice Guy now?"

"Yeah, well, missing half of your identity causes you to have a form of clarity." He shrugs. "Plus, hurting and, uh, _playing_ with other people eventually became boring to me."

The showing of his ego causes me to have to strain against my inner desire to slap him again, but, luckily, I contain myself.

He continues, shoving his hands in his front pants pockets. "You see, Dr. Jekyll had a bottle full of pills next to his bed that he would take to turn into me. If I were to take one, I might just turn back into him. Normally, that really wouldn't be necessary, because I would always transform back into him after six hours or so, but I guess that you could consider that to be a fail-safe. Now, I need your help in finding those pills. They could be my only hope."

Pills next to his bed? Oh my God, those were the pills that I thought helped my dad manage the disease that I thought that he had at the time. And I used the last of them when I tried to save my father's life. Now, how do I break the news without Hyde doing something horrible in response? I take a deep breath. "Mr. Hyde..."

He interrupts, "You have absolutely no idea where they are, do you? That's just great."

I bite my lip. "Actually, I used the last of them on you when I thought that my father was dying. He told me that they were medication for his disease, so I used the last few up because I thought that they would help him. I suppose that's why you not only transformed, but also why my father is still alive somewhere in you."

He runs his hands through his ebony hair. "Just peachy."

As sincere as I can sound, I say, "I'm sorry. Maybe there's some more located somewhere in the house. After I thought that my father died, I never got rid of any of his things. Well, I got rid of his chair, but I hated that ugly thing."

Hyde quickly shakes his head. "Sorry, dear, those were the last of them."

"Damn it." Beginning to get a headache, I softly massage my temples. "Do you know how he made them? Maybe we can replicate the process and come up with a substitute- and still get him back."

He dismisses my thought almost immediately. "Nope, sweetie- I never needed to know. Plus, I never really cared, 'cause I'm just not into all of the science and chemistry and stuff. After all, _he _was the scientist."

"_Is_ the scientist," I correct in a sharp tone of voice.

Hyde waves me off with his left hand. "Yeah, yeah."

I contemplate what our other options may be. "Do you know if he kept any notes?"

Hyde taps his chin. "Well, he did say something about not touching a certain journal."

In an almost excited tone, I question, "A journal? Is that what he said?"

Purposely elongating his answer, Hyde replies, "Yuuuuuuuuuuuuup."

I can almost feel the light bulb appear above my head as I state, "I know that journal. He told me never to touch it as well. And I know exactly where it is."

I'm halfway up the stairs when Hyde shouts, "What exactly do you want me to do?"

I shrug my shoulders, with the right one still being a little sore. "I guess, um, do some soul searching or something. Whatever you normally do."

"Okay then." He leaps onto my couch and props his feet up on my coffee table. I roll my eyes and continue upward.

I head into my dad's room and turn straight towards his nightstand. I remember that he always kept the book in that drawer, as he forbade me to go rummaging in there. I open the drawer and inside is...nothing.

"No, oh no. Where is it?!" I start freaking out and tearing his room apart, knowing that that journal is crucial to my father's revival. I can feel the stress inside me piling up, which will do me absolutely no good, since I cannot function under any kind of stress. A shiver rushes down my spine and the pain sets in. I scream out and fall to the carpet.

Hyde suddenly appears in the doorway and stands there, jaw slightly ajar. "Oh Hannah, your eyes..." I then lose consciousness.

* * *

**Hyde's POV**

Hannah had red eyes, so that can only mean one thing- she inherited this bloody curse from her father. I chuckle and lean against the door frame. This next part is gonna be fun.

I can't see Hannah's face 'cause her hair's covering it, but I can still tell that there's been a change- her hair is similar to a glossy blackish brown color instead of a dirty blonde, and even from eight feet away, I can still tell that she's taller and thinner.

I smile, as I have had a feeling all along that something like this was going to occur. She twitches, and then sits up.

This new girl brushes her hair out of her face and stares at me in surprise. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know that I was going to be entertaining a guest." She flips up from her seated position and lands gracefully on her feet. "Let me guess... You're Mr. Hyde?"

Immediately realizing that, for some reason, I completely dislike this girl, I only slightly nod my head and blandly state, "Yeah."

She lights up like a Christmas tree. "Ok, well you were one of the last things that she was thinking about. I mean, of course you know that you always remember the last thing that your polar opposite was thinking, right?"

With a blank face, albeit the unsupported hatred in my eyes, I respond with, "Yes."

"You don't really talk much, do you?" She strides over to me and taps my nose. She chuckles. "Of course, I normally don't talk much either. Normally, just batting my eyelashes gets the point across."

I then realize what bothers me about Hannah's "Hyde"- she looks and acts a lot like me.

I stand there and run everything through my head while she carries on babbling. "Oh, so sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! I'm Wendy Darling's other half- but you may call me Maya if you prefer." She grins a big, toothy grin.

"You call Hannah 'Wendy Darling'?" I question her intently.

With a devilish half-smile, she asks, "Yeah, why not? What, you don't have a pet name for your better half?"

I shrug. "I suppose not."

Maya sneers, "You're not much of a dark side, are you? You are _extremely_ tame."

Annoyed, I dash over to her in a blur of movement, grab her by the throat, and slam her against the now-crushed tan colored wall.

Maya grunts, and then laughs. "Hmm... That's more like it. Maybe I was wrong about you."

Through gritted teeth, I snarl, "I'm still myself, _Maya_, but after having half of myself disappear, I found a new meaning of the miserable life that I have."

"Maybe I know how to fix that," she purrs.

I scoff. "I doubt that you do."

In a near singsong voice, Maya claims, "I know that you need a certain journal in order to change back, and I just so happen to know where it is."

Although I'm somehow not surprised by this sudden development, I still ask in a shocked voice, "What? How?"

Maya proclaims, "I hid it there."

Suddenly outraged, I slam her head against the wall once more.

She smiles, showing off her pointed teeth. "Man, you've got some power to your punch."

I growl, "Where is it?"

"In a secret place," she whispers.

I show her my malformed monster face while shouting, "WHERE IS IT?!"

Maya straight-up laughs in my face. "Ha, you think that that'll scare me? It's pathetic. You must be really desperate to become Dr. Jekyll again. If you let me down, though, I'll tell you where the journal is." I drop her and she collapses to the floor. She stares up at me and declares, "The journal is hidden in Hope's Corridor."

I frown. "'Hope's Corridor?' What the hell does that mean?"

Maya stands up, brushes herself off, and journeys towards the window. She huffs as she opens it. "My other half knows- and so does yours. Let's see if _you_ can figure it out, tough guy." In the next second, Maya jumps out the window and disappears into the pitch black night.

* * *

**Author's Note:** This chapter is finished! Hannah's big secret is revealed- Maya! Plus, is that an almost good-guy Hyde that we see? Hmm... What will happen next?

Now, I will try to be good about updating on schedule, but I can't make any guarantees, as I just don't know what life's going to throw at me in the future. I promise, however, that I will never forget about it and that, even if it is late, I _will_ eventually update.

As with any other story that you may read online, please review!

Cheers! :)

P.S. If you have also read any of my other stories and are wondering when those will also be updated, I promise that I'm working on them, and I will try to start getting them up as soon as I possibly can.


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